


Hard Landing

by graceandfire



Series: Brightness Burns [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MirrorMcCoy returns to the Mirror Universe.  MirrorKirk is waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Landing

The waiting grates along Leonard’s nerves, shredding little pieces of his sanity as the minutes turn into hours which turn into days.  It gives him time to doubt and second guess and call himself twelve fucking kinds of moron because what the _hell_ does he really think he can accomplish by coming back here?  He hadn’t been able to save Joanna when she’d been confiscated by the empire as part of Jocelyn’s estate.  Hadn’t even been able to keep her when Jocelyn had divorced him in her pursuit of more power and nearly taken his life along with all of his possessions; _would_ have had his life if he hadn’t signed it away to the Empire’s service.    
  
Odds are he’ll never see earth and Joanna again.  He’ll breathe his last out here in space tortured to death or, if he’s lucky, granted the mercy of a quick execution.  He’d almost expected it—had been braced for it—and, truthfully, he's kind of surprised he’s still alive.  Kirk would have easily figured out that he’d helped the other Kirk escape and from there, logically, if erroneously, concluded that Leonard had voluntarily gone with the other man.  And if there’s one thing Leonard knows, Kirk does not permit betrayal.  
  
So a part of him had expected to be shot the instant he’d materialized on the small space station that hadn’t existed when he’d been taken from this Universe roughly three months ago.  But there’d been no torture, no questioning.  The scientists and security personnel hadn’t spoken a single goddamn word after they’d confirmed his identity.  They’d just tossed him into this nine by nine detention cell and left him to rot.  So, either they’re softening him up before questioning—unlikely, since straightforward, brutal torture is more the Empire's way—or they’re waiting for something.  Or someone.    
  
By his reckoning it’s been about four days since his return.  He can’t be sure exactly since the harsh lights stay on at all hours; but eight bland meals have come sliding out of a small panel in the wall and, based on his hunger pangs, he’s only being fed twice a day, if that.  It’s a small station, there’s no one else in the cells, and no one's bothered to come check on him.  He can only spend so long being terrified, so now he’s mostly bored.  
  
When he finally looks up at the sound of footsteps, it’s a kick in the gut and déjà vu all at the same time as, for one dizzying moment, his tired and overstressed mind's not sure which James T. Kirk is striding towards his cage.  And then he meets cold eyes and he knows.     
  
Kirk stares down at him, expression impassive, before turning his back on Leonard to address the slender, fidgeting science officer who’s hovering by his side.  “You’re sure the other ship is gone?  No possibility of them trying a surprise ambush?”  
  
“No, Captain,” the other man hurries to assure, hands fluttering nervously.  “As your Commander Spock can verify, now that we know the other Universe exists, our sensors can detect objects nearing the thinning of the barrier between our Universes.  The other ship is no longer in the vicinity of the area.  Added to that, the ionic storms have fluxed again and, while it is difficult to pinpoint with any certainty when the right conditions will arise again, for now there is _no_ possibility of a cross over.”  
  
Kirk just nods at the explanation and turns.  “Good.  Transmit all of your collected data to the Enterprise.  My science officer will find it interesting bed time reading.”  He turns and walks away.  He doesn’t look back.  For the briefest of instances Leonard sits, frozen, because of all the possible scenarios that have been circling through in his head, indifference is not one of them.  He wonders if Kirk is just planning to leave him here to rot but, no, that doesn’t make sense, why would he come in person if…  
  
A two man security team from the Enterprise steps into his view.  Leonard's treated all of the Enterprise crew at one time or another, the security personnel more than most, so he knows their faces.  It’s Liebherr and Evans, dangerous and smart, but, unlike some of the more thug-like security personnel, all business.  They torture per orders, not for personal pleasure.  Evans gestures curtly at the cell door and the science officer scurries to obey him.  As the energy shield drops, Leonard stands warily, nodding at the two men.  They flank him at the entrance to the cell and Evans gestures him out with a quiet “Chief Physician McCoy.”  Leonard wonders if they’re going to restrain him but Evans just gestures him forward and they start walking, silent shadows on either side.    
  
Well he’s not dead yet and he’s not being tortured and he’s not in restraints.  All good signs.  Then again Kirk didn’t even acknowledge him and he’s being escorted by Security so, for all he knows, they’re heading towards an airlock and he’s about to be spaced.  He thinks about asking but it’s not like he can fight his way past the guards, and if he did, there’s nowhere to run.  So Leonard walks down corridors and tries to ignore the twisting knot in his gut.  
  
They walk through a long hallway that opens out to a docking bay where the Vaunted, one of the Enterprise shuttlecrafts, rests.  Either Kirk is using the shuttlecraft because he knows Leonard hates transporters—yeah, not damn likely—or it’s because of the unsettled atmospheric conditions and tendency for transporters here to send people on alternate Universe vacations.    
  
They board and Leonard catches a glimpse of Kirk in the pilot’s seat before Evans steers him to the back where he’s pointed to a seat and the two guards flank him again.  Leonard opens his mouth to ask something, _anything_ to break the silence that's suddenly getting to him—hell, he’ll talk about the weather at this point—but Liebherr gives him a brief shake of his head and so Leonard closes his mouth and looks out the window instead.  As much as he hates space travel he’s not blind to its beauty and, as they approach the Enterprise from space, even through his stress Leonard feels a flash of appreciation for her clean lines and stately magnificence.    
  
As soon as the shuttle docks, Evans and Liebherr hustle him off it and straight into a turbolift.  He’s not imagining the shocked looks he gets from the crewmembers they pass so he guesses news of his return has been kept quiet.  Evans quietly orders “Deck 7” to the lift and it hums efficiently as they’re whisked away.   Well, hell, at least they’re not going to detention since that would be Deck 22.  A faint hope that they're escorting him to his own quarters quickly fades and he’s not really surprised when they stop in front of Kirk’s door and he's escorted in.  Leonard pretends not to see the brief flash of sympathy in Liebherr’s dark eyes as the guards exit and he’s left standing there, wondering.  
  
He sits down on one of the stuffed chairs in Kirk’s living area, nerves humming at the lack of anything to do.  He’s tempted to call down to sickbay to check in but doesn’t want to get anyone there in trouble.  He desperately wants to place a call to earth and Joanna, but any off-ship calls require Uhura’s coordination which means Kirk would know.  So, since he’s pretty much stuck here with no options, he takes up the occupation that’s been keeping him busy full time for the past four days—hell, a lot longer than that—and broods.  He broods about Joanna.  He broods about the fact that he’s the biggest moron in not one, but two Universes, for coming back here.  He broods about the fact that Kirk hadn’t spoken to him.  Not one word.    
  
Leonard's exhausted but too strung out with tension to sleep.  He's just checked the old fashioned clock on Kirk's table for about the 30th damn time so he knows it's 1908 when the door slides open without warning and Kirk enters.  

Kirk still doesn’t look at him, just shrugs out of his uniform jacket and drops it carelessly on his desk chair, a tensing at the shoulders the only sign that he’s not completely relaxed.  Leonard feels his insides wind up even tighter though he tells himself that’s what Kirk wants.  By now he’s strung so tight he feels like a goddamn tuning fork vibrating with the tension.   
  
Fuck this.  
  
“The silent treatment’s new.  I kind of like it.”  His voice is rough because he hasn’t really spoken in about four days and, yes, he is a fucking, perverse moron to be baiting Kirk right now.    
  
Kirk turns around and leans back against his desk, arms crossed and expression blank.  Every single fucking mood of Kirk's can be classified as dangerous but Leonard’s not sure he’s ever seen the other man this devoid of expression and it makes him deeply uneasy as to what's waiting underneath.  
  
“Are you hungry?”  The question is even.  
  
“What?”  The normalness of it startles him.  
  
“Are.  You.  Hungry?”  An edge of darkness skates beneath the words.  
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Good.”  Kirk shoves off from the desk and starts stalking slowly towards him.    
  
“So, McCoy, did you enjoy your little Universe hopping adventure?”  The rage suddenly bleeding through makes the question dangerous.  
  
“I…”  Leonard’s not sure what he’s planning to say but it doesn’t matter because Kirk cuts him off as he leans into Leonard’s space, blue eyes anything but emotionless now.    
  
“Did you have fun with your new ‘friend’?  Did you beg him to take you away from here?  Did you ask him to save you from your _horrible fucking life_?”    
  
Leonard’s body wants to get up to face the threat on a more even setting but his mind knows that there _is_ no even setting for this threat and he forces himself to stay seated, to be less provoking in the face of the predator waiting in front of him, less than an arm’s length away.  
  
“I _asked_ you a _question,_ _Doctor_!”  Kirk snaps, demanding an answer in a tone that will brook no disobedience.  
  
Leonard takes a deep breath.  If he’s going to die here, he’s not going to beg with the truth.  He’s just going to tell it.   
  
“I helped him escape but I didn’t plan to go with him.  He hit me with a hypospray.  Knocked me out.  When I woke up I was in his Universe.”  He hears the words and knows they sound like a lie.  
  
“Really.  He kidnapped you?”  The question is flat.      
  
Suddenly the awful tension that’s been winding through Leonard breaks with a snap of pure rage and he’s standing, leaning towards the other man with a belligerent growl, because _fuck_ sitting down like a good little bitch.  “Fuck, _yeah_ , he fucking kidnapped me,” he snarls, feeling suddenly, _righteously_ pissed.  “Y’know _why_?  Because he was James _Goddamn_ Tiberius Kirk and apparently _that’s_ what Kirks _do_!  They turn Universes upside down to suit themselves and they kidnap people and and hey, since it’s a _Kirk_ idea it _must_ be brilliant!  You and your fucking doppelganger both have that in fucking common!  You _both like to fuck with my life!”_  
  
Leonard feels his chest heaving with relief at releasing the awful tension that's been knotting up his insides and he scowls defiantly as he waits for Kirk's reaction.  But Kirk just narrows his eyes and studies him and, after a charged moment of silence, stands back a little, suddenly calm as if Leonard’s rage is soothing his own.     
  
"Why did you help him?  I could have you tortured to death for it."  He’s studying Leonard now, head cocked to the side, like Leonard’s a bug under a microscope—or maybe a bug under a magnifying glass under the sun.    
  
"He reminded me of…" Leonard feels a bitter laugh escape.  "It doesn't fucking matter."  He almost sighs it out, rage suddenly draining away.  It just doesn’t fucking matter.  
  
Kirk studies him silently for a moment more before he shrugs and moves away, pacing restlessly.  
  
“I found a hyprospray on the ground where you and your ‘friend’ beamed out.  It had traces of a knock-out compound.”  He cites the facts like they’re from a report.  
  
“I…oh.”  
  
Kirk’s gaze is sharp.  “None of the guards had the compound in their bloodstream.  They were knocked out by old fashioned force.”  
  
“The other Kirk said he didn’t want me implicated when he escaped.”  Had been stubbornly insistent on it.  
  
“How fucking generous of him.” Kirk’s tone is suddenly less friendly.  
  
"So you knew I was kidnapped."  Leonard states flatly.  "Then why the hell did you ask?"  Jesus, he's out of practice dealing with his Kirk.  
  
Kirk shrugs.  "I wanted to hear what you had to say.  I’ve written my report to show that you were fooled by the other Kirk who was pretending to be me.  That you were kidnapped by him.”  
  
Leonard looks at the other man warily.  “You covered for me.”  
  
“Fuck covering for you.  That’s what happened.”  He arches a brow and smiles coolly.  “Because I say that’s what happened.”  
  
“Okay,” Leonard says, still wary.  Because he knows Kirk.  And it still feels like there’s a sword hanging over his head.  
  
He watches Kirk walk to his desk and open a drawer, removing something to hold with both hands as he looks back up at Leonard.  Kirk looks down again at the object, a photo frame.  It looks…familiar Leonard thinks with a slow frown.  His attention is brought back to Kirk’s face as the other man shakes his head. “Still that was careless of you.  Letting yourself be fooled; getting yourself kidnapped.  I can’t have that kind of carelessness going unpunished, McCoy.  It sends the wrong message to the crew.”  
  
Leonard feels the knots coming back in his stomach, uneasy suddenly from more than the threat, even though he knows it's real.  There’s something about…he feels the blood slowly drain from his face.  He knows that picture frame.  
  
Joanna.  
  
It's the picture of Joanna that Leonard keeps in his rooms.  
  
"What did you do?"  His voice is a choked out whisper.  He doesn't want to know… fuck, _please_.  He looks into Kirk's dark gaze and there’s desperation in his voice.  "What the fuck did you do?"  
  
Kirk looks back down at the picture and holds it up so Leonard can see his baby girl's precious face.  "I was worried about her so I paid her a visit on earth, after you disappeared.  She’s a _really_ pretty girl."  He looks up at Leonard and he smiles.  
  
Later, looking back, Leonard will realize that Kirk isn't surprised when he rushes at him, no conscious, rational thought behind the rage that fills his brain with white noise.  That Kirk’s eyes are calm and assessing and his stance braced for the punch.  Leonard realizes it later but for now all he feels is dark satisfaction as his fist slams into Kirk's jaw, the impact of it sending pain singing through his hand.  It feels good.  It feels amazing.  He tries to do it again.  And then he's being slammed up against a wall as a fucking battering ram hits him, sending explosions of pain through his body.  Again.  And again.  The blade sharp agony cuts through his rage, stopping it cold as survival instincts kick in, frantically trying to find a way to escape the onslaught of relentless blows.  He feels ribs cave, his physician's mind automatically cataloguing the damage-- _fourth and fifth ribs, cracked, possible separation—_ as he desperately gasps for air to fill his burning lungs.  He tries to swing in defense but is easily deflected. Kirk's a trained killer.  Leonard's not.  
  
His body crumbles under ruthless body blows.  _Bruised kidney_ , he thinks as a white hot flare of agony sends him to the floor and he's hauled up again.  _Potential rupture damage_.  A right cross to the face and his vision is hazed in red.  _Cheekbone fracture_.    
  
He's on the floor.  When did he fall to the floor?  
  
As he tries to deal with the frantic messages of damage and pain his body is sending, Leonard realizes that Kirk's stopped hitting him.  He coughs up blood with a wet splat— _definite internal damage_ \--and although he wants nothing more than to stay in his fetal position forever there's something…Joanna, _Joanna_ …he tilts his head enough to look up at Kirk who's standing calmly over him.  Just turning his head sends a wave of fresh pain exploding through him, stealing his breath.  
  
"What did you do to Joanna?"  He wheezes out.  It's a plea and a curse and the ending of hope.  
  
Kirk crouches down, looking at Leonard with a calm expression, bloodied hands resting on his knees.  "Nothing."  
  
Leonard blinks, not registering it.  "You…"  
  
Kirk shrugs.  "I didn't do anything to her, McCoy.  I took her out for fucking ice cream."    
  
Leonard studies Kirk and the darkness inside of him is blasted away under an almost crushing wave of brilliant relief as Leonard realizes that he _believes_ him.  It's something about the almost baffled tone of the other man’s voice and the fact that Kirk _doesn’t lie to him_.  Taunts, torments and threatens him, hell yeah, but he doesn’t bother to lie.  _  
  
__His baby girl is safe._ For a moment Leonard doesn't even feel the pain of his broken body in the euphoria of relief.  
  
"You…you took her out for ice cream."  That's just…he feels a weird burble of laughter struggling out, past cracked ribs—and, oh _fuck_ there's the pain making a reappearance—he doubles up against it but still keeps chuckling because… "Heh, you took her out for _ice cream_?”  Ow, _fuck, possible internal bleeding in the stomach._  
  
Kirk is frowning over at him now.  "It's what you do with kids, right?"  There's an almost defensive quality to his voice.  
  
Leonard finally manages to stop the laughter because… _owww._   "Why the fuck did you let me think…" he doesn't finish the question but, shit, James T. Kirk is exhausting to try to understand.  
  
"Yeah, well…" Kirk shrugs and looks Leonard over with an assessing eye.  "You'd better get to Sickbay.  I didn't do anything that can’t be fixed, but the longer you stay on the floor, the harder it's going to be for you to get your ass over there."  
  
"I was actually just thinking I’d stay here and enjoy unconsciousness," Leonard rasps out.  Seriously, unconsciousness sounds like a great plan right now.  He lets out a pained gasp and makes a protesting groan as he feels Kirk's strong arms suddenly pulling him up and every muscle and nerve in his body screams in protest.  He finds himself propped up against a wall and feels the weight of Kirk’s considering gaze.  
  
"Once we get to the hall you're on your own." Kirk says and Leonard feels himself hauled up against the other man who half supports, half drags him to the entrance.  Kirk's as good as his word and ruthlessly lets him go as soon as the door slides open.    
  
Leonard staggers and weaves his way down the corridor like a drunk trying to find his way home as Kirk casually strolls beside him.  Of course drunks don't usually leave smears of blood on the walls or the floor—he spares a pain filled moment to wonder who cleans up all the blood on the ship.  
  
If the looks he got when he was escorted off the Vaunted were surprised, the looks he gets now are terrified—quick glances to Leonard and the Captain before the glances dart away—steps quickening in case they're drawn into Leonard's misfortune and isn't that the goddamn point of this walk of shame, to show what happens when you fuck up, even if you’re the Captain’s pet.  Leonard wonders whether Kirk will just leave him in a heap in the hallway if he collapses, which he might, because this painful, shuffling shamble of his is getting harder to do, and the world’s getting fuzzier as objects become outlined in halos of white light.    
  
He makes it to Sickbay out of imprinted memory, stumbling forward down the path he knows so well.  He falls into the entrance onto his hands and knees but that’s too much work, so he goes the rest of the way to prone and just…stops.  He hears a gasped “ _Doctor McCoy!_ ” and then sharp orders as hands reach under him and haul him up to a bed.    
  
He’d really, _really_ , like to lose consciousness now but the pain, which has reached the level of _world ending agony_ , won’t release its vicious grip.  “Drugs,” he rasps out to Doctor M’Benga whose dark, tensed face is grim as he slides a tricorder along Leonard’s battered form.  Leonard thinks about rattling off his self-catalogued injuries but, hell, M’Benga’s a competent physician.  He can figure it out.  Leonard half expects Kirk to countermand his desperate demand for drugs as M’Benga turns to look at the Captain who’s leaning back against a wall, watching the whole procession with bright eyed interest.  Leonard’s had enough procedures stitching people back together where the withholding of pain killers had been part of the lesson.    
  
But, thank you any and all benevolent powers, Kirk just shrugs and then holds up his hands, frowning. “Hey, someone needs to treat these,” he points out and Leonard looks blearily over to see split knuckles.  Wow, it’s nice to know his beating hurt Kirk’s hands.  He watches Nurse Shell scurry over and start treatment on the Captain and, hey, there’re _three_ of her treating Kirk now and, oh, Jesus _thank you—_ Leonard realizes he no longer wants to die to get away from the pain because the drugs are kicking in.  He watches the blurry image of Kirk approach as the world becomes fuzzier and less distinct.  Hears the casual tone that tells his staff “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you all that the doctor had better make a full recovery.”  He wants to snarl at Kirk for threatening his staff but he’s lost the use of his voice.    
  
The last thing Leonard hears as the world finally, mercifully fades away is a whisper in his ear, almost drowned out by the rushing arrival of unconsciousness.  
  
“ _Welcome home._ ”


End file.
